


A pillar of pride

by boom_slap



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boom_slap/pseuds/boom_slap
Summary: Berlín is alive, Río is captured and Palermo is indispensable (this time around).I'm sorry but Palermo and Berlín are honestly assholes but also it's a tragic love story and I had to.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín
Comments: 174
Kudos: 568





	1. Chapter 1

He found him and at first, he barely recognized him.

He knew that Martín was less inclined towards luxury than he was, but he didn't expect to find him living in that awful hellhole of an apartment, with notes and books and bottles scattered all over the place.

Worse yet was the sight of Martín himself - pale, with red eyes and toussled hair, unshaven, dressed in what Andrés could only describe as rags.

"What?", asked Martín and that was the final shock to the system. Andrés' brows furrowed at his friend's- ex-friend's? - tone. It was flat, devoid of any emotions. Andrés knew this was no time for apologies, even though he felt uneasy at Martín's state. Then again, he did break the poor man's heart. It was only right that he had a breakdown. Romantic, really.

But they both knew that if Andrés wanted to apologize, he would've come earlier. This was not the case.

"One of our own has been captured. Sergio wants to get him back."

Martín stared at him, arms tight around himself.

"Care to tell me why the fuck would I care?"

"Our plan is on the table."

Sergio arrived in Italy shortly before the others in order to prepare the monastery with Andrés and Martín.

In all honesty, he would rather not have Martín on the team, but he was half the mastermind behind the plan. Besides, maybe the time away from Andrés has done him some good.

Well, the time has done something, he decided as he watched the two figures aporoach his car. Martín looked like a ghost.

"Sergio," he gave him a nod, hands in his pockets. It was raining and although Andrés had an umbrella, his friend was keeping two solid meters of distance between them.

"Let's go," Andrés smiled. "Maybe we'll make it in time to hear _compieta_."

As much as he hated his brother's and Martín's constant talking, he missed it now, Sérgio decided after driving for two hours. He looked into the rear mirror to see an unusual picture- instead of Martín staring at Andrés with absolute devotion, he found it was his brother who was glancing at his friend from time to time, decidedly annoyed. Martín on the other hand was glued to the window, face turned away from Andrés, his eyes following the raindrops on glass.

Sergio wondered if he's allowed a ticking bomb inside his car.

Once at the monastery, he finally saw a glimpse of emotion. As Andrés went to search through his rooms, Sergio and Martín stepped into the chapel to see if some of the plans were still hidden there. As they set foot inside, Sergio saw the engineer flinch visibly.

_Yes_ , he decided. _A ticking bomb it is_.

By the time the others have arrived, Martín - Palermo - got himself together. He unpacked, making sure that his new bedroom would be carefully disorganized, he then took a long bath, shaved and dressed in some classy attire.

He welcomed _la banda_ with flair, he drank and sang with them, he teased them mercilessly and in no time, he was one of them.

At first, he was very careful not to interact with Andrés. With Berlín. But then, as he loosened up in the company, he and Andrés have slowly started speaking again. Exchanging witty remarks. Exchanging looks instead of words whenever someone said something particularily idiotic.

When Palermo explained to others how to get into the vault, Berlín put a hand on his shoulder, beaming with pride. And Martín let him.

Slowly, inevitably, they've fallen back into their usual dynamic, with Andrés tossing Martín some of his attention, and Martín catching it, maybe not with adoration this time, but with gratitude nevertheless.

Martín was a weak man. He was like a moth drawn to a flame.

Andrés was satisfied as he finally saw Martín give in. It has proven that the love Martín - Palermo - held for him was not all fire and passion, but something deeper, unbreakable even by the utmost cruelty that he had forced himself to inflict upon poor Martín.

As they found their rythm once again, Andrés felt himself relax, basking in the warmth that was Martín's presence, like a satelite around Andrés, always there if he wished to reach him.

He was on his way back to his room after talking and drinking way into the night with Sergio and Raquel, he got stuck by a new idea. He needed to consult Martín. Oh, how glad he was that he could just stride into the room, switch in light on and wake him up to share his thoughts-...

"What the actual fuck-... Andrés?" Seeing it was him, Martín fell back onto the pillows.

Berlín smirked and took a chair beside his bed.

"What is it?"

"I'll explain in a moment, my friend. The book you were reading at breakfast, do you have it here?"

"Sure," yawning, Martín stretched his arm towards the desk. "It's over there, if you could just-..."

Andrés lazily followed Martín's movements with his gaze. As he saw Martín's forearm, his eyes widened and he immédiatelly grabbed it hard enough to bruise. Martín yelped in surprise, trying to pull away, but Andrés was having none of it.

"What the fuck is that?"

Martín looked down at where Andrés was clawing at him arm and he had the audacity to snort.

"Oh yes, I should've remembered to wear long sleeves even to bed, but you see, it's getting really warm and-"

Andrés didn't let him finish. He slapped him right across the face and when Martín shut up, stunned, he climbed over him, knees on his both sides, still gripping tightly Martín's forearm, marked by two ugly, disgusting, thick scars.

"What have you done ?" he growled, filled with an unknown kind of fury, ice cold and filling him to the brim, making it difficult to breathe.

Martín stared at him without a word.

Feeling any common sense and control leave him, Andrés grabbed Martín by the chin and squezzed hard.

"What the fuck have you done?!", he yelled. 

"Why are you screaming at me, Andrés?" the other man whispered, his gaze once again distant. "It's not really my fault, but yours," he said simply. 

Finally, Berlín identified the storm in his veins. Shame. Guilt. Searing pain.

He pulled Martín's hand to his chest and for the first time in a long while, he cried.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all of the comments!!!  
> I wasn't planning on writing more, but since I still have some images stuck in my head - well, here goes.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Martín sighed, pulling Andrés to his chest and wrapping an arm around him.

Berlín pressed himself against the other man, desperately feeling his heartbeat.

"Andrés, I swear, this is so undignified..."

"Do you really think that I don't care about you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, that's what I think."

Berlín sat up and stared at him, his fingers still wrapped tightly around Martín's wrist. There were tears glistening on his cheeks, but his gaze was hard, searching.

Martín stared back, tired, but a little bit curious still.

"Let me get this straight. You kissed me back only to inform me that you didn't want me, that we were no good for each other, and then you left without looking back even once."

Berlín opened his mouth, but Palermo shoved him back. There was no real force behind his movement though.

"Let me finish, you self-righetous bastard. You broke my heart, yes, and with your love for the dramatics it must've felt amazing. But you've also thrown away our plan, all of my hard work, months of calculations, research-..."

"We are doing it now, aren't we?"

"Because it's convinient for Sergio! Do you think I'm some kind of an idiot?" Palermo snarled, shaking his head. "You left me because your buffon of a _hermanito_ decided that what we had was dangerous. Suddenly, you said I liked you too much. Since when was my love any kind of a problem, really?"

"You were falling for me-..."

"I have fallen for you YEARS ago, Andrés! Do I need to remind you that we've met right after your first divorce and then, I had to watch you get married another four fucking times? Sure, it hurt, but I haven't said a single word. I was perfectly content with the scraps, you know. And then you had to go and ruin all of it. And you're angry at me for what, for being weak afterwards?"

Andrés blinked at him and then looked away, his brow furrowed.

"Feeling stupid, aren't we?" Palermo pulled his arm out of the other's grip. "You have me, there's nothing you or me could do about it. But you don't get to mourn for me. Now get the fuck out, I want to go back to sleep."

Martín turned onto his side, facing the wall, and closed his eyes. He was exhausted.

He heard some rustling, but the door remained closed and as he was falling asleep, he could hear Andrés' breath somewhere in the room.

Nairobi couldn't really crack that Palermo type. His dynamic with Berlín was bizzare.

At first, they seemed to be strangers, but since Palermo was an abrasive son of a bitch who would banter with everyone except for Berlín, she quickly figured that there had to be some bad blood between the two of them.

Then, she was proved halfway right - they knew each other all right, but the bad blood seemed to be gone. She had never seen Berlín being so at ease around someone. It was not his carefully manufactured carelessness, it was something else, something honest.

And today, at breakfast, Palermo had a small bruise on his chin. Nairobi was sure she could hear raised voices last night. She wouldn't put it past Berlín to hurt his apparent friend, but to get physical?

Nairobi chewed on her churro, lost in thought, when Berlín walked out onto the patio. He would usually be one of the first to wake up and wait for everyone else, enjoying a cup of coffee. So, that was weird.

Weirder even, he sat down without a word and turned immediately to Palermo, pointing at his plate filled with eggs on toast, tomatoes and green onion.

"Can I have some?" he asked in what was probably the softest murmur Nairobi has ever heard leave Berlín's foul mouth.

She then witnessed a completely non-verbal conversation. Palermo stared at Berlín, his expression unreadable for her. Berlín raised his eyebrows. Then, Palermo rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, gesturing to his plate.

"Please, suit yourself."

As Berlín put some toast onto his plate, Palermo caught Nairobi's gaze. She flashed him a grin.

"You're like a married couple."

Berlín looked up at that, a hint of worry crossing his features as he glanced at Palermo, who grinned right back at Nairobi.

"I doubt that I could ever deserve to be the lucky number six."

After breakfast, they had their first lesson of the day. Sergio explained in great detail why Gandia was such a threat and what they would do to neutralize him.

Then, they had dinner. The food was great and afterwards, Denver and Helsinki both groaned in satisfaction as they stretched in their chairs. Berlín raised an eyebrow at them. Palermo on the other hand smirked as he got up.

"I understand your feeling, gentlemen," he said before taking his leave.

Berlín waited for a moment, entartaining a conversation with Marsella. Then, he went to check up on Martín.

He found him in his room, on the bed, curled up in white sheets, rays of sunshine playing on his hair.

"Sleepy, are you?" Andrés leaned against the doorframe.

"It's called _la siesta_ , Andrés, I thought you were familiar with the term," Martín mumbled, not opening his eyes.

Berlín stared for a moment, before walking in and closing the door quietly behind him. He stepped to the bed, slipped off his shoes and laid down beside Martín, staring up at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest.

"I could never do anything bad or cruel enough for you to turn your back on me, could I?" he said under his breath.

"Apparently not," Martín sighed deeply.

Andrés fell silent after that. He knew well enough that it was the quiet before the storm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been on fire recently, and it's all thanks to your comments!!  
> You're being amazing!
> 
> Also, chapter 4 is going to be... well, something.

"Martín-..."

"Would you please start using his alias?" if Sergio's gaze could kill, Andrés would be a dead man.

So he tried to adjust and practise.

"Palermo," he said with a bright smile, greeting Martín at the breakfast table.

"Palermo," he said with a huff of laughter, watching his friend dance with others one night.

"Palermo," he said quietly, hugging the man from behind as he was hunched over his desk, studying the plans.

"MARTÍN !" he yelled as he saw Gandia fire at him.

"Martín, Martín -... TOKIO, where are the FUCKING stretchers?! Martín, open your-... ohhh, no, no, no..." he cursed under his breath as he saw the pieces of glass in Martín's eyes.

"Andrés, it hurts, and I can't see shit," Martín muttered through gritted teeth.

Andrés threw his head back and took a long, deep breath. Panic will do him no good.

"Alright, we have a cart. We'll take you out of here. Easy, don't move too much," he said quietly, helping Martín up and onto the cart.

They moved him to where they kept their mediacal equipment. Berlín assessed the damage, with Tokio right beside him.

"We need a doctor-... " Estocolmo began, but Berlín shook his head.

"Impossible at the moment. We need to take it out ourselves."

"I can do it, my hand is like a swiss watchmaker's," said Tokio, making Martín flinch and snort.

"I'm not letting that witch anywhere near my eyes!" he yelled.

Berlín straightened up and flashed a grin at Tokio. "See? He's not letting you anywhere near his eyes, you witch."

"That's completely absurd, you want him to be blind?"

"He follows me blindly anyway, there wouldn't be much of a différence," Andrés snapped and was met with complete silence.

He looked at Martín, who had his eyes opened and his head turned in Andrés' direction. The white and blue in his eyes were drowning in a sea of red.

"Helsinki," Berlín cleared his throat. "Ever cleaned a grenade wound?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good enough. Get to work. Tokio, come with me. Denver, you too, your face is getting all green. _Vamos_! "

Martín let out a shuddering sigh as Helsinki finished wrapping a bandage around his head.

The serbian beast was actually incredbily gentle. He had been careful in removing the glass and now, he pressed his huge hand to Martín's forehead.

"All good now, Palermo. All good. You want more painkiller?" he asked quietly.

"No," he muttered. "It hurts, but I don't want to be drugged out of my mind."

"Okay," Helsinki moved his hand back to stroke Palermo's hair. "Okay."

Martín felt some of the tension leave his body. He pressed his head more into the soft touch. It felt nice.

"Helsinki!" a familiar voice cut through the silence. "If you're done, get your hands off of him. You're needed downstairs."

Martín felt the man's hand leave his hair and he heard his heavy footsteps as Helsinki left.

Then, he heard Andrés' voice much closer.

"Does it hurt still?"

"No. I'm fine," Martín frowned and stirred, hearing a click on Andrés' walkie-talkie.

"Berlín? Palermo?" Sergio's voice filled the room.

Martín was about to pull himself up, but Andrés' hand landed on his shoulder and pushed him down.

"Professor, Berlín here. Palermo is resting, Helsinki pulled the glass out of his eyes," Andrés said and stepped away.

"Flipper ? Yeah, we have him," Martín heard him say as he was leaving the room.

He groaned. It looked like he was out of the game for the time being.

"Can you see me?" Helsinki waved a hand in front of Palermo's face.

"I see your beard of a russian orthodox, you serbian fucker."

Helsinki smiled. Palermo's insults never phased him; he considered them a form of endearment. Most of the team was wary of Palermo, but Helsinki saw him as a bright, albeit very sad person. Rather secretive, too.

Palermo could only see with one eye, so Helsinki covered the other one with a patch. He tied it at the back of the man's head and then, put his hands on Palermo's cheeks.

"All good," he said. Palermo smiled at him.

"Helsinki," he heard Berlín call him from the doorway.

He let go of Palermo's face and walked over to Berlín, who narrowed his eyes at him.

"Keep yourself in line, will you?" Berlín said in a low voice. "You should know that I'm not the kind of man who shares his toys."

Helsinki stared back at him and shook his head.

"You should be careful," he said. "He will break."

"My dear Helsinki," Berlín raised his chin slightly. "You don't know shit."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your amazing support !! ❤️
> 
> We're preparing ground for some DRAMA, my dears.

As his sight got a little bit better, Martín walked around the Bank to see for himself how the heist was going.

Obviously, with Andrés around, everything was under control. Even though their Flipper didn't work (mostly due to Denver being an idiot, if someone was to ask Martín), the C4 could never fail them.

Weapons were on the ready, gold was being melted, hostages were kept in the main hall.

That's where Martín noticed the one thing that was decidedly wrong: Gandia, throwing insults at Nairobi for no apparent reason.

Martín walked over to them. "Shut up," he spat in the general direction of Gandia. He then turned to Nairobi. "Berlín?" he asked.

"In the governor's office."

A few moments later, Martín burst into the room, making Helsinki, Tokio and Estocolmo jump in surprise.

Berlín only winced as Martín slammed the door.

"Care to explain to me why the fucking Rambo is still alive?!" he yelled, already anticipating the answer.

"As per what I've learned during the last heist..." Berlín smiled smugly and nodded towards Estocolmo, who rolled her eyes. "We don't kill hostages."

"Regular hostages, no! But this guy-... We agreed on that!" Martín stepped closer.

"The plan may have been ours, but Sergio was the one who perfected it," Berlín's voice was still calm, but colder. There was a dangerous spark in his eyes as he looked down at Martín. "So, if the Professor says that Gandia lives, he lives."

"FUCK THE PROFESSOR! What the hell is wrong with you all and your Professor, the almighty, the genious, the sacred Sergio fucking Marquina?!" Martín yelled, most of his self-preservation making an english exit through the window. "Your brother and his bitch may be docile enough to keep this motherfucker alive, because they are not in danger of having him blow a hole through THEIR fucking heads, are they?! NO! Because as always, the great Sergio is in hiding and when it all goes to hell, he will be able to leave this sinking ship like a _fucking rat_ that he-"

Before he could finish, Martín was grabbed by the collar. He found himself nose to nose with Andrés. And with a gun pressed to the side of his jaw, no less.

"See, that's why Sergio didn't want you here in the first place," Berlín hissed, letting go of Martín's collar to grab at his hair instead. He pulled, making him expose his throat, and pressed the gun harder into his skin. "You should be grateful that I decided to go back for you."

For a few seconds, they only stared at each other, Martín's heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

Then, Estocolmo took a step forward.

"Berlín... That's enough. Let him go."

Andrés glanced at her. He sighed, nodded and lightly pushed Martín backwards.

Helsinki caught him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, but Martín barely noticed, his good eye still glued to Andrés, disbelieving.

Berlín ran a hand through his hair and then gestured towards Tokio and Estocolmo.

"Ladies, let's go, we have to check on the governor and contact the Professor."

They all left, but Andrés lingered in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at Martín.

"And you," he said quietly. "Better behave."

Andrés began watching Martín then. Finally, after trapping Suárez, recording the absolutely hilarious video of them singing "Bella ciao" almost naked (the naked part being Martín's idea of course, bless his soul) and after getting Río back, they had a moment of respite.

That's when Andrés decided that yes, Palermo behaved, at least for the last few hours.

He found him in one of the corridors, stretched out on the floor.

"Martín..." he sat beside him and gently pulled his head onto his lap.

"You have to understand, my dear, we can't have you making scenes like that during a heist," he whispered, playing with a strand of hair.

Martín only sighed and angled his head towards Andrés, one of his hands coming to rest against his elbow.

"You love the plan because it's something that we've created together, I know. But without Sergio, we will never get out of here."

"And what happens when we do?" Martín opened his eyes. They were still bloodied and it must've hurt.

"Are you going to throw me away again?" he asked, chuckling.

Andrés shook his head.

"No. I'm not."

Martín's hand wandered up to Andrés' shoulder and he gently pulled him down.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly.

Andrés snorted.

"Don't you have Helsinki for that?"

"Can I?"

Andrés looked down at Palermo's searching eyes, at his half-smile. He closed the distance between them and pressed his forehead to Martín's.

"Go ahead," he said and then felt Martín's hand in his hair, and his mouth against his lips. The kiss was chaste, short and loving, something that could be exchanged between friends as well as lovers.

Andrés pulled away and gently stroked the scabs around Martín's eyes with his fingers.

"You look absolutely awful. Have you seen yourself? The skin around your eyes is all bruised," he whispered.

"I'm looking like a _macho_ ," Martín grinned and they both laughed.

The sound of Andrés' radio tore through that short moment of happiness. 

"Berlín?" Sergio sounded stressed and out of breath. "We have a problem. Río's microchip?"

"Out. They're listening to snores," Andrés replied, frowning as he ran a hand through Martín's hair.

"Good. Lisboa is in danger. Commence plan Alcatraz."

Martín was already getting up.

"I'm on it," he said, leaning down and pressing his lips to Andrés' temple. Then, he walked down the corridor and disappeared in the elevator. Andrés stared after him.

"Berlín? How is Palermo?" Sergio's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Under control. Over and out."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally so sorry also I love you all

Everything was going to hell, very quickly.

They had a lot of fun with plan Alcatraz, but now, Nairobi was bleeding out, Lisboa was dead and there were men burning alive outside of the Bank of Spain.

"We need a doctor, Sergio, we're setting everything up, hurry-" Berlín walked into the room and froze, seeing everyone pointing their guns at each other over Nairobi.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed.

"Narobi wants out," Tokio said through gritted teeth.

"Nobody is getting out," Palermo snarled at her.

"Put your guns down," Andrés shook his head. "We won't give them Nairobi. We'll have a doctor on the line. They put a bullet in her, she won't get help. Besides, half an hour ago, they executed Lisboa. She was unarmed, on her knees. We're at war."

Everyone stared at him, speechless. Nairobi moaned weakly.

"Tokio, Helsinki, Río, you are in charge of the operation. Take the radio if you need anything from the Professor, but you're still reporting back to me if anything happens," he said calmly, hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. "Estocolmo, find out if we have anyone with medical training in here. Denver, go back to the hostages. If I find out you did anything to Arturito, I'm putting you by the window so that the army has a clear shot at you. Bogotá, downstairs, we can't stop melting the gold. Palermo, with me."

The gang scattered, and Berlín found an empty room where he leaned against the wall and let out a heavy breath. He slid down the wall and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, head in hands.

Martín quietly joined him, his warmth comforting.

"You like her."

"Yes."

"I do too."

A beat.

"Murillo, too."

"Yeah."

"Down to earth. Smart. Strong."

"Good for Sergio."

"Mm."

They sat in silence for a long time after that, listening to any signs of commotion in the Bank.

Finally, Helsinki appeared in the doorway. Andrés looked up at him.

"Report?"

"Nairobi's still alive. But-... I don't know. I don't know," Helsinki said. "We lost the doctor from Pakistan. So... I don't know."

The Serb bowed his head, sniffling. Martín got up and approached him.

"Come on, big guy. Come here," he said, pulling Helsinki into a tight hug. Andrés watched as Helsinki pressed his face into the crook of Martín's neck.

It didn't suit Martín to be this close with a person such as Helsinki - huge, bald, bearded, rough around the edges, covered in tattoos, lacking in finese. The only thing they had in common was being queer, Andrés decided. Only one percent. Disgraceful.

Before he could ruin the moment with some well-crafted humour about queer solidarity, Tokio ran into the room. She was holding onto the radio.

"Lisboa is not dead! I talked to the Professor. He hasn't seen it happen. They used the same strategy that we did with plan Alcatraz," she said.

Andrés got up immediately.

"Of course... Tokio, I'm proud to announce that you have finally grown a braincell or two. Come on, let's check on everyone and get somebody to help Bogotá. You two lovebirds, move your asses as well," he rolled his eyes at Palermo and Helsinki.

They walked into the main hall and found Río kneeling on the floor, bawling his eyes out.

"I'm sorry, I-... I just froze, I couldn't stop him..."

Martín looked around and cursed loudly. Gandia was gone. Before he could start yelling, Andrés spoke up.

"Me and Helsinki, we're going to check up on Nairobi. Tokio, stay here and make sure nobody moves. Río, do absolutely nothing. Palermo, get Bogotá and find me Denver and Estocolmo. Go!"

They were late, but Nairobi managed to survive, partially thanks to her nurse. But, Gandia managed to escape.

As Bogotá, Denver, Palermo and Estocolmo ran into the room, Andrés turned around and pointed a finger at Denver.

"You. Congratulations on leaving a cripple in charge of the hostages. You're going to check if the library is safe so we can lock the hostages there. Manila will keep an eye on them. Nairobi, will you be able to move on that horrendous thing Bogotá put together for you?"

Nairobi nodded, her gaze hard and determined.

"Great. Once the hostages are locked, I want you and Bogotá downstairs, working, barricaded like you're under a fucking siege. We are going to hunt for Gandia - Río with Estocolmo and Helsinki, Denver with Palermo, I'm going with Tokio. In an hour, the seven of us will meet in the main hall."

The situation was extreme but damn him if Berlín wouldn't use it as a chance to show who's the boss.

An hour later, they met in the main hall; but there were only four of them. Estocolmo, Río and Helsinki were nowhere to be seen.

Martín was on the verge of losing his damn mind when he heard Andrés' calm voice.

"Let's give them three more minutes."

Martín turned to face him abruptly.

"FUCK YOUR THREE MINUTES !" he yelled. Tokio and Denver glanced at each other and both of them decidedly took a step back.

"Palermo-..."

"NO! It's your fault, yours and your stupid brother's! I told you to kill Gandia, I told you and you knew we had to, but you listened to Sergio, right?! You always listen to Sergio!" Martín's voice broke, but he pulled out his gun and pointed at Andrés, his hand shaking.

"We had this amazing thing but Sergio didn't like it, so you said FUCK THAT and turned away! Threw me out like garbage, and after years of me being by your side no matter how fucking awful it felt to be mocked at every step, and manipulated, and you-... Better raise your fucking hands and kneel down," he hissed, gesturing with the gun.

Andrés took a look at Denver and Tokio, but then he stared back into Martín's eyes and did as he was told.

"You listened to Sergio again and _voilà_ , here's the outcome! Helsinki and the others are probably already dead because of that piece of shit, and you won't even admit that it's your fault. You're trying to listen to your little brother, because you're trying to prove that he matters to you, that you love him, but you're lying, you don't care about anyone besides yourself, you don't love anybody!" Martín's voice was breaking, tears already running down his cheeks.

"Martín, put the gun down..."

"Apologize."

"What? No, we're not-..."

"APOLOGIZE TO ME, you manipulative, selfish, power-hungry, cowardly son of a bitch! APOLOGIZE-"

"- _WATCH OUT_!"

Andrés was staring into Martín's eyes, shocked by his outburst, when he heard Estocolmo's voice over his tirade.

Then everything happened like in slow-motion.

He heard something roll onto the marble floor.

He heard the thumping sound of Denver and Tokio throwing themselves onto the ground.

He saw Martín's snarl turn into confusion.

He saw the grenade explode behind his friend's back.

And then, there was nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to wait a little longer before posting this chapter, but to hell with that, I guess?? 
> 
> Also, reading how you guys think my portrayal of Palermo and Berlín is on point... I'm just asddhfkks. They are such complicated characters, I was really nervous about that and I feel honored!!
> 
> So... Please enjoy xx

When he met Martín, they were both drunk in a bar and Martín was dancing with strangers, singing "Bamboleo" until his voice was hoarse.

When they were working on the heist plans, Martín used to hum "Felicità", nodding his head or thrumming his fingers against the desk.

A few weeks before the robbery, everyone got really drunk and Martín surprised them with his rendition of "Cambio dolor" sung from the top of a table. It made Nairobi cry with laughter.

On the last night, Andrés laid with his head on Martín's lap, letting him stroke his hair. Quietly, Martín sang "El día que me quieras".

" _Como ríe la vida si tus ojos negros me quieren mirar..._ "

Andrés was alive, he knew that from the terrible pain in his entire body, the ringing in his ears and the thrumming in his head, as if his brain was repeatedly banging against his skull.

He opened his eyes and saw Helsinki looking down at him, his face desperate and scared.

"Helsinki-..." he groaned. "Help me up."

When he managed to sit up, he put his hand to his ear and felt warm blood. More blood was pouring from his nose, sticky against his lips. Great. He winced and that's when he felt sharp pain in his cheekbone; something was lodged in it. A piece of shrapnel, no doubt, so that's fucking spectacular.

He looked around and saw Denver sitting down, clutching his arm which was bleeding heavily, Estocolmo right beside him.

Next to them, Tokio was getting up with Río's help. There were small dark spots on her uniform and she was bleeding from the nose and ears as well, but she seemed more or less in one piece.

When he saw Martín, a quiet whine escaped his lips.

Palermo was lying flat on his stomach, with his head turned to the side, the floor beside him marred with blood.

"Helsinki..." he rasped, unable yet to stand up.

Helsinki understood. He moved to Martín and checked his pulse.

"Alive," he said, his voice trembling. "He needs help."

"Where?" Andrés asked. Bogotá appeared in the hall, alarmed, and helped him stand up.

"His spine. Shoulder. And-..." Helsinki winced. "His legs. One is looking broken. Big piece."

"Gandia?"

"Wounded. He ran away, but he has a gunshot wound," Estocolmo replied, wrapping a piece of fabric tightly around Denver's arm.

"Alright. Tokio?"

"I'm fine," she said, wiping the blood away from her face.

"Good. Go and get the stretchers. Río, go find the nurse. And Flipper. Palermo and Denver need patching up."

A few moments later, they were all upstairs.

Palermo was on the bed previously occupied by Nairobi, with Río trying to stop his bleeding as the governor began pulling out the shrapnels and stitching him up.

Denver was sitting in the corner, the nurse cleaning his wounds.

Helsinki stared at Palermo, still scared for the man's life, but he was pulled out of his thoughts by the Professor speaking up on the radio.

"How is the situation?" he asked.

Berlín clutched the walkie-talkie so hard his knuckles turned white; he was standing with his shirt off, Bogotá slowly pulling pieces of sharpnel from his arms.

"Oh, I don't know, Sergio, I'm rather confused since a grenade exploded in my face. Let me ask Palermo--oh no, wait, he won't answer! Maybe because Gandia made a fucking crochet out of him."

"Is he-..."

"He's alive," Berlín let out a breath. "Gandia is wounded, Estocolmo shot him. But we have no idea where he is. Tell me you have some kind of a plan," he said, looking around the room.

Helsinki met his eyes and he saw a glimpse of pain and exhaustion in Berlín's gaze.

"I do."

Denver hated this.

Since his arm was useless, he could not go and help others with Gandia. No, he had to stay in the room with Palermo and only a small handgun.

He hated this.

Minutes were passing by slowly and Denver was trying not to doze off when suddenly, he heard Palermo groan quietly.

"Oh, you're alive," he said, moving his chair closer to the bed.

Palermo stared at him, his pupils dilated. He was obviously very high on morphine.

"Denver, my friend, what happened..?"

"Gandia threw a grenade at us. You got it worst. But Estocolmo managed to take a shot at him and since the Professor figured out where he's hiding, they've gone get him."

"Ahh..." Palermo closed his eyes for a moment. "She's tougher than she seems, that woman of yours. And way smarter than you. Why the hell did you leave Río alone with the hostages?"

"I wanted to talk to Mónica," Denver admitted, looking away. "She was talking a lot to Río recently. One time, I caught them sitting together, barefoot. And since we've been fighting, I'm worried that she-..."

Palermo's eyes opened at that and he glared at Denver.

"Are you fucking kidding me? THAT is your problem?" he laughed and winced right after.

"Denver, you're a good kid, a good dad even, but I'm sorry to inform you - you have the mental and emotional capacity of a shoe."

"Yeah, because you are so fucking mature!" Denver snapped, pointing his finger at Palermo.

"Maybe you wouldn't be here, looking like a colander, if you haven't gone off on Berlín like that, in the middle of a crisis. What was that even about? You sounded like a broken-hearted lover or some shit."

Palermo stared at him.

"Oh my God, you're in love with Berlín."

Palermo raised an eyebrow.

"But-... Ew, why? Why don't you go after Helsinki instead? He plays for your team, doesn't he?"

"If you don't stop running your mouth maybe I'll go after _you_ , how about that?"

Denver looked like a deer caught in headlights. Palermo grinned at him, and then they both laughed wholeheartedly.

"I like you drugged, you know!" Denver patted the man's arm. Maybe Palermo wasn't so bad after all. He was just a crazy son of a bitch.

When Helsinki walked into the room, he didn't expect to find Palermo awake, and laughing with Denver.

"Palermo!" he beamed and moved to place a hand on his forehead.

"You have a fever. No worries, it's normal."

"I'm doing amazing, you bear," Palermo slurred. "You got him?"

"Yes. The Professor wants to use him. So he's alive. But Berlín keeps kicking him in the shin."

Palermo rolled his eyes. Helsinki smiled warmly at him and stroked his hair.

"How's your leg?" he asked.

Palermo stared at him, frowning.

"How _is_ my leg? I can't feel shit."

Helsinki winced slightly and hesitated. Then, he spoke slowly.

"It was... crashed. The bone, I mean. Big piece of grenade. We put you back together, but it will take time to heal."

He exchanged a look with Denver. It was always hard to tell someone how badly they're hurt.

To their surprise, Palermo only sighed deeply.

"Aww, fuck that. What a bummer. Denver, what about my ass?"

"What-... What about your ass?"

"Do I have any shrapnel in the general vicinity of my ass?"

"No, sir."

"Now that's a relief. It's my best asset," Palermo winked at him and all three of them exploded with laughter again.

Denver turned to Helsinki, wiping at his eyes.

"We should keep giving him morphine EVERY DAY."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Berlín said as he walked in, his tone cold as ice.

He eyed Helsinki's hand in Palermo's hair.

"You two, get out," he barked. "Palermo and I need to talk."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly you guys I'm having so much fun with this

When the doors closed behind Denver and Helsinki, Martín grinned.

"Andrés! So kind of you to come and check up on me."

"Check up on you?" Andrés whispered. He stepped closer, running his hand over the edge of the bed.

"No, I'm debating what to do. I could give you an air embolism," he said, placing his fingers on Martín's arm. "But that would be obvious. I could also give you a lethal dose of morphine, which would be easy to blame on our poor nurse or even the governor."

His hand moved upwards, finally landing right on Palermo's neck.

"Or I could just strangle you with my bare hands, which would be the most satisfying way," he growled, his eyes shining dangerously.

Martín stared right back at him, his smile gone.

"If you were to strangle me, I would probably be grateful for the final touch of your hand," he said quietly, making Andrés flinch a little.

"Stop this."

"No."

Andrés frowned. He sat down on the bed, most of his anger clearly gone. Martín took his hand into both of his own, moving it away from his neck.

"Do you realize how much you're hurting me?" he asked.

Andrés nodded.

"Do you realize that Helsinki loves me very much and that I could allow him this, if I decided that I wanted to?"

He nodded again and although his face wasn't saying anything, he pressed his fingernails hard into Martín's hand.

"And you apparently don't like the idea. So, to sum it up - you're making me suffer, but you don't want to let anyone else close to me. I followed you into this, but you're so obsessed with your authority and your brother that you decided to take away any control that I could have over the situation, which resulted in me having my eyes and leg fucked up. Correct?"

By this point, Andrés closed his eyes. He nodded again.

"So. Are you sorry, or not?" Martín asked, calmly but with intent.

"For your wounds, yes," Andrés finally looked back at him. "But not for anything I've done. I trust Sergio. I'm not asking you to do the same, I'm asking you to trust me."

"Trust you? I don't think so."

"Martín..."

"No. You chose Sergio over me and I know you'd do it again. Just like you'd choose any woman over me. You know what the difference is, though? None of your women ever tried to take you away from me," he said, reaching to touch the side of Andrés' face.

"Martín, perhaps you have watched one too many soap operas. You're getting overly dramatic."

"I'm the one getting dramatic? You came here threatening to kill me like some evil doctor from a telenovela," Martín snickered. 

To his surprise, Andrés grabbed his face and kissed him.

"See? That's what I want. My smart, witty Palermo. Not some histeric. You have to trust me," he breathed against his mouth.

"Andrés..." Martín began, a warning in his tone.

"Please," Andrés sounded almost desperate.

"I'm exhausted. I need you," he said and his lips brushed once again against Martín's.

"I know what I've done to you, what I'm still doing, and we can have all the arguments in the world about it when we leave this place," he continued, not moving away. "But right now, I need you to be faithful to me."

Martín was quiet, not moving a milimeter.

"And I'm not letting Helsinki take care of you, _I'm_ going to do that, once this is over, I will pick you up piece by piece to have you back," a kiss. "To have you happy," another one. "To have you singing and dancing and joking..."

Finally, Martín broke. His face crumpled as he choked on a sob.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm a crippled, suicidal mess. And you-... I'm so angry at you, but I love you, fuck, I love you so much, same as five years ago, same as ten years ago. It's hopeless," he sniffled.

Andrés shook his head and kissed him again.

It's not like Martín was keeping count, but it was the fifth time in the last three minutes.

He took a shaky breath to compose himself and ran a hand though Andrés' hair.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. Just-... come here. You need rest," he put an arm around Andrés' shoulders as the man pressed his cheek against Martín's chest.

And then, Martín began humming quietly.

"Jesus Christ," Tokio gasped, stepping away from the door, which was cracked open.

Nairobi, who had come with Tokio because she needed some painkillers, stared at her.

"What? Is it a massacre? You said Palermo wanted to shoot him, so I can only imagine Berlín turned him into a paella?"

Tokio pressed a finger to her lips and opened the door fully.

Now, if you were to ask Nairobi, Berlín and Palermo were both psychopats and objectively, one of the worst people she's ever met. They had their moments, though: moments of laughter, understanding, sadness, empathy. Moments of being human.

Nevertheless, she would never have expected to see Berlín asleep, basically lying on Palermo's chest while the other man had an arm wrapped around him, his nose in Berlín's hair.

"I thought he didn't sleep," Tokio whispered.

"What's going on?" Bogotá appeared at the end of the hallway.

"Shhh!" both girls hissed at him.

He raised his eyebrows and came closer, putting one hand on Nairobi's arm as he looked into the room.

"Aaah. Figures," he said, nodding to himself.

Nairobi felt like her brain was going to explode.

"What do you mean, 'figures'?" she barked.

Bogotá sighed.

"See, you know how Berlín is a womanizer? There is a problem with that. None of his women were able to stand him for too long. The only person who can stand Berlín on a daily basis is actually Palermo," he said.

She stared at him and she saw Tokio do the same.

"And, you know, it's not like these women were weak, and unable to 'keep up' with Berlín or whatever. The thing is, all of them possesed some form of self-respect, which Palermo doesn't really have when it comes to Berlín."

"That's really..." Tokio began.

"Romantic?" Bogotá offered.

"Fucked up," she finished, wincing.

"How do you know all this?" Nairobi looked up at him. "You sound like a damn psychoanalist."

"Oh, no," Bogotá laughed. "I just like watching the bastards. They're better than a fucking circus. Am I right, Palermo?"

Nairobi blinked and looked back into the room.

Palermo was awake, his face still pressed into Berlín's hair, but he was giving them the finger.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I may have gone feral xx

Berlín laughed sincerely as he hugged his almost sister-in-law.

In fact, everyone was delighted to see Lisboa.

She may have been an outsider, more than that even; most of them were confused and even pissed to see her on the team.

But she was a rebel at heart. More than that, she was a genuine, warm person, so Helsinki immediately took a liking to her, Denver, Estocolmo and Nairobi as well. She was a tough woman, so she has grown on Tokio. She was bright and witty, Bogotá and Marselle liked that about her. Even Berlín had some respect for her intelligence.

Surprisingly, she got along with Palermo.

Whenever he threw some nasty comment at her, she fired back immediately and with astounishing class. Well, most of the time.

Once, during a dinner that stretched way into the night, Palermo has launched a long, sexist tirade about how women were less inclined towards greatness. When he was done, he looked around, gloating.

"Say," Lisboa leaned back in her chair then. "Don't you suck dicks as well?"

That was the first time the team saw Berlín choke on his expensive wine.

Lisboa looked around with a smile, but then she frowned slightly.

"Where's Palermo?" she asked, turning to Berlín, who sighed.

"He had fourteen pieces of shrapnel lodged in him, so he's resting."

"Oh," she winced. "Will you take me to him? I want to say hi."

"Sure," he motioned to the staircase. "Ladies first."

"Lisboa!" Palermo beamed at her as she walked in. "Welcome to hell."

"I can see that you've been to the last circle and back. How are you?"

"Well-..." Palermo cleared his throat. "I've developped a tolerance for the morphine, so it's getting painful. Weirdly enough, the leg is not the worst. I feel like my spine is about to claw its way out of the nape of my neck, though. Andrés? Help me up."

Lisboa watched as Berlín walked over to the bed. He helped Martín sit up; Palermo groaned in pain.

" Ow, ow... Bad idea, bad idea..."

Berlín pulled him to his chest, hand on the back of his head. Raquel took a seat next to Palermo.

"Good thing you're here," he said quietly, leaning against Berlín. "You have to help Andrés. I'm useless, Denver can't hold a machine gun, Río is a nervous wreck and Nairobi is still recovering."

"Don't worry. We'll make it through," she said and even gave him a small smile.

Palermo nodded and closed his eyes. Berlín was absent-mindedly stroking his hair, his expression unreadable.

"I'm going to go find Bogotá, let him talk me through everything that's been going on," Lisboa got to her feet.

She took one last look at the two of them before walking out.

Only a week before the heist, Raquel has stromed out of their bedroom, shutting the door in Sergio's face on her way out.

She walked outside, took a deep breath and sat down on the stone stairs. She needed time to think and calm down.

"Hey, dollface, you look like you need something to drink."

She cursed under her breath and looked up to see Palermo standing in front of her, a bottle of tequila in his hand.

"No, thanks," she said, hoping that it would make him go away, but instead, Palermo sat down next to her.

"Sergio?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he just smiled and looked up.

"You know, I think he should come with a warning: _handle with care; very toxic, huge ego, socially crippled and incredibly annoying_ ," he laughed.

Raquel slowly turned her head to look at him.

"And if Berlín came with a warning..." she began, already seeing Palermo's smile disappear. "What would it say?"

The man leaned forward, elbows on knees, and took a huge gulp from the bottle.

" _Asshole_ ," he replied.

She silently reached for the bottle and Palermo handed it to her.

They drank for a while before he spoke again.

"Everyone always acts surprised when they learn that Andrés and Sergio are half-brothers," he said. "But you know, they are very similar. Incredibly smart and horrendously egocentric. Both are sociopaths. They just have different temperaments. Two sides of the same coin."

"How am I supposed to handle an egocentric, sociopathic genious?" Raquel smirked.

Palermo remained thoughtful, his gaze distant.

"Well... You make him fall in love with you. You become a part of him. Something so integral to his entire being that he can't imagine what it would be like without you. If you're smart, you can even start putting thoughts in his head."

"Mmm..." Raquel nodded and then risked a glance at the man beside her. "And what if I fail?"

Palermo shrugged.

"You leave," he said. Then, quietly: "Or you stay."

"I see," she muttered and then, leaned against his shoulder.

She felt him tense up for a moment, before he relaxed and cocked his head, letting it rest against hers.

"Why Berlín?" Raquel asked after a while.

Palermo sighed and wrapped an arm around her.

"He makes me feel alive," he said. "He challenges me, every step of the way. I think you can relate to that."

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Andrés is... Sometimes, he's like ice, cold and painful to touch. Or like a firestorm, feverish, burning everything around him. But sometimes, he's like a warm day on the shore. You know the kind? When you're standing on the beach, waves crashing at your feet, breeze flowing through you hair. The kind where you turn your face towards the sun, you close your eyes and you just... breathe."

"Palermo, this is the single most romantic thing I have ever heard in my entire life."

"Yeah. I'm hammered."

At breakfast, Raquel watched the two of them from the corner of her eye.

Obviously, she had noticed before how Palermo was always close to Berlín. Not only physically, when he would find any excuse to touch the other man, but even when he was at the other end of the table, he would always know when to look at Berlín to catch him looking back.

Now, Lisboa decided to pay more attention to Sergio's brother. And she grew more and more curious.

Any time he said something witty, he would turn to Palermo to laugh with him, as if they were playing their own game.

That could be explained by Berlín's enormous ego.

But she also noticed how comfortable he was with Palermo touching him. How he seemed to be seeking that touch, always meeting him halfway. How he smiled at him, then.

She stared as Palermo raised his hand to fix Berlín's hair. The second he moved, Berlín had his eyes closed, his head tilted slightly upwards. When Palermo's fingers touched his temple, he smiled.

Like a man enjoying sunshine.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK so uh  
> This chapter is second to last NOT BECAUSE I don't enjoy writing this but
> 
> I respect the SHIT out of the writers of this show
> 
> I have been wondering about it a lot, but I have NO FUCKING IDEA how are they gonna get the gold and themselves out
> 
> Prayer circle for our babies
> 
> So, enjoy the ride through this shitstorm and for chapter 10, we'll make a jump through time and space all the way to dreamland
> 
> ps. to the person who asked if martin and helsi had sex in this one, thank you

"Are you sure you want to try walking around?" Andrés asked.

"I may enjoy naps, but you know I can't stand not doing anything for too long."

"I do," he smiled at Martín. "Whatever you want. But you need fresh bandages first, okay? Lie down for a moment."

Palermo obeyed. Andrés pulled out some bandages from the first aid kit and sat down, gently moving Martín's leg onto his knees.

A small whine escaped Martín's lips nevertheless and Andrés frowned slightly, unwrapping the bandages.

They didn't really expect broken limbs during the heist, which was stupid, now that Andrés reconsidered. They had no way to put Martín into a cast so they had to make do with a splint, which he didn't dare to touch. Besides, Martín's shredded calf was carefully stitched back together by Flipper and well, in Flipper we trust, he thought.

But Martín had smaller, less significant wounds all over his legs, so Andrés took his time to carefully redress every single patch.

The last part he rewrapped was Martín's foot, below the splint, which was saved thanks to the heavy boots they wore, but a small shrapnel still managed to fracture his ankle.

When he finished, Andrés leaned down and pressed his lips against the bone.

He looked at Martín, whose face was red to the tips of his ears.

He helped him sit up and take off his shirt, and then took a place behind his back. After changing the medical dressings on his shoulders and arms, where he had only minor wounds, he ran his hand down Martín's back in a comfort Ing manner and finally got up, stood in front of him and unwrapped the bandage from around his neck, which was keeping in place the gauze in the back.

"Forward," he whispered, breaking the silence for the first time in fifteen minutes.

Obedient again, Martín bowed his head. He moaned out loud when Andrés pressed a bag of ice to the nape of his neck.

"Nice, hm?" Andrés said, keeping his other hand on Martín's shoulder, massaging small circles with his thumb.

He kept the ice there for a moment and then redressed the wound. He clipped the bandage in place, but instead of moving away, he leaned closer then to press a kiss to Martín's neck, right below his ear.

"I _am_ sorry, okay?" he whispered against his skin. "I left because I thought I was sick. I thought I was going to die, in the Mint or right afterwards. I thought you were going to be alright. You scared me, Martín."

He pulled away a little. Martín was staring at him, his eyes wide. Andrés' fingers touched the scabs around them.

"And here... There is some pressure, I must admit. Last time, I've lost two men. Not some babies like Río, but two strong professionals. Do you understand?"

Martín nodded slowly. He licked his lips.

"But-... Tatiana," he muttered.

"What about her?"

"You've stayed with her."

"Because I knew it would be easier to say goodbye to her than to you."

Martín looked down.

Andrés moved closer, hands sliding to his neck, his lips parting already to kiss-

But Palermo tilted back his head and looked him in the eyes.

"How was she?" he asked.

"What do you mean, 'how was she'? You knew her. Smart, beautiful, a goddess."

"No. How was she in bed?"

Andrés grinned at that.

"Come on, Martín..."

"Tell me."

"Classy. Graceful. Playful, too," he purred. Well, if Martín asked, he would get his answer. "You want me to go into details? The shape of her breasts, maybe?"

"No need," to his surprise, Martín only smirked.

"You know how I'm in bed?" he leaned in to breathe right in Andrés' ear. "Not so classy."

Andrés inhaled through his nose. "Yeah?"

"Mmm, yes," Martín lowered his voice even more. " _You can go ask Helsinki_."

Andrés saw white.

Since things were going alright, more or less, and Bogotá had told her everything, Lisboa decided to go back to Palermo and Berlín.

When she was by the door, she heard Palermo shout "ANDRÉS, NO" and a second later, she found herself face to face with Berlín, who looked furious.

"What-..."

"Move."

"You move! What are you doing?"

"The current plan is to murder Helsinki," Berlín hissed, looking down at her.

"You are so not doing that," she snapped and pushed him back inside, closing the door behind them.

"What's going on?" she asked, looking between Palermo and Berlín.

They were silent for all of three seconds, before they both exploded.

Lisboa closed her eyes, only able to make out certain phrases like "HE FUCKED HIM", "YOU'RE SUCH AN ASS", "THAT'S NONE OF YOUR BUISNESS" and "HOW IS THAT NOT MY BUISNESS" in-between series of curses and offended gasps.

"BOYS!" she yelled.

By some miracle, they both shut up.

Lisboa took a deep breath and turned to Berlín.

"So, Palermo slept with Helsinki, correct?"

"Yes," Berlín spat.

"Palermo, is that true?"

"Sure," Martín shrugged slightly.

"Did you give consent?"

"Duh, have you seen him?"

"Fair enough, I guess. Did he?"

"Have you seen _me_?"

Lisboa rolled her eyes.

"Berlín? The ruling of this court says that you're being a brat. The court will also inform your brother of your outrageous behavior and so, your punishment will be listening to his tirade. Court dismissed," she raised a finger when Berlín tried to say something.

Palermo was grinning.

"Now," Lisboa said, stepping closer. "Bogotá and Nairobi are doing an amazing job down there. Which means that there's a chance we'll get out of here alive."

Half an hour later, the three of them joined Tokio, Río and Helsinki, who were making sure Gandia stayed tied down and gagged until the Professor called and decided what to do with him.

Helsinki immediately got up when he saw them. Palermo was standing on his better leg, leaning heavily against Berlín, clearly in pain.

When he moved to help him though, Palermo looked up and slowly shook his head.

Helsinki didn't understand.

Then, Berlín turned towards Palermo and pressed his lips to his hair, eyes roaming across the room as if he dared anyone to say anything.

And Helsinki understood.

"Hey, you two," when Berlín left the room with Lisboa to try and contact the Professor, Palermo glared at Tokio and Río.

"Go guard the corridor for a moment."

"How dare you-..." Tokio began, but she fell silent when Helsinki looked at her, his gaze pleading.

"Fine," she growled.

Río shot them a curious look as he and Tokio walked out.

"Helsi," Palermo stopped poking the unconcious Gandia with his foot from where he was sitting on the floor. "Come here."

Helsinki seemed reluctant, but he took a place next to him. 

"Berlín is not good to you," he murmured, frowning and nodding at the scars on Martín's arm.

Palermo gave him a warm smile.

"He kind of is. Besides, I'm just as awful as Berlín. Look, I'm even hurting you right now," he said and sighed. "Once we're out of here, you will find someone great for you. But that's not me."

Helsinki shrugged, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"Hey," Martín laid his hand on the other's cheek. The man looked at him, his gaze terribly sad.

"That doesn't mean I don't care about you, okay?" Palermo said.

Seeing that Helsinki was not convinced, he offered him a hand.

"My real name is Martín. Martín Berrote. And I'm really happy that I know you," he said.

Helsinki finally smiled, grabing his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Martín. My name is Mirko Dragic."

"Mirko," he smiled. "Has a nice ring to it. Suits you."

Helsinki let go of his hand, but he stroked Martín's hair.

"It's okay, Martín," he said. "I'm not angry at you." 

Palermo leaned into the touch. Oh, how different Helsinki was from Andrés. 

But, first of all, Helsinki was a good man. Martín wasn't.

Second of all, he couldn't imagine being apart from Andrés again. If Andrés offered him comfort, Martín simply couldn't resist. 

And finally, Andrés was the one who hurt him in the first place. Who made him this bitter, this weak, this unbalanced. 

It was his god damned job to fix it. 

So Palermo moved to give Helsinki a big hug. To say thank you. To say I'm sorry. 

"You know what?" he said, patting the man's back. "When all of this is over, I want to be your friend. I'm going to see you again."

"Promise?"

"I promise."


	10. Chapter 10

_Two years later_

  
Sergio got out of the car and opened the doors for Raquel and Paula.

He closed his eyes against the breeze for a moment and then took in the sight before him - a beautiful house with a white façade, contrasting elegantly with dark wood elements. 

" _Mi familia!_ " Andrés appeared on the porch. 

Sergio grinned and went in for a hug. Andrés patted his back and gave Raquel a kiss on the cheek before turning to Paula. 

"So you're Raquel's daughter. Nice to meet you," he said. 

Paula looked up at him. 

"And you're Sergio's brother. So, like an uncle. Hi," she smiled. 

Raquel put an arm around Paula. 

Andrés gestured for them to follow him. He showed them around the house, led them to the guest bedroom where they could leave their bagages and then, walked out of the house through the backdoor in the salon, onto the terrace, and down the hill, to the shore. 

There was a nice boat there, with the name " _Bella_ " written on the side. 

"Martín!" Andrés called. 

Palermo appeared on the boat and grinned at them. He carefully climbed onto the pier as they approached. Serio and Raquel both hugged him at the same time, smiling.

Then, Martín noticed Paula. 

"Hello, princess! We have some gifts for you, do you want to see?" he asked and when Paula nodded, her eyes shining, he walked with her back into the house. 

Sergio stared after him. 

"He looks well," he said. 

"Healthy," Raquel added, leaning against him. 

"Some days are better than others," Andrés explained. "Sometimes, his spine hurts a lot. And sometimes, he wakes up in the middle of the night and he cries so hard it scares me."

The pair looked at him. Sergio moved to put a hand on his shoulder. Andrés smiled. 

"It scares me, but every time his sobs wake me up, I'm glad that he's next to me."

Next to arrive were Denver and Estocolmo with Cincinnati. 

They all sat on the terrace, watching the kids run around the garden. 

"It's so pretty in here. But how can you stay in Italy? Aren't you afraid of the police?" Estocolmo asked, sipping on her wine. 

Martín placed a plate with foccacia on the table. 

"Well, it's Sicilly. I have a very good relationship with the mafia," he laughed. "Besides, they love the wine Andrés makes."

"We're very charming people, even the mafia can't resist," Andrés chuckled. When Martín walked behind him, he grabbed his hand and pressed a soft kiss there. 

Bogotá and Nairobi arrived on a boat. And they were not alone. 

To everyone's delight, there was a child sleeping in Nairobi's arms.

"What's his name?" Denver asked, leaning down to take a look at the little thing. 

"Ibiza," Nairobi declared proudly. 

"That's... the dumbest name ever," Martín raised an eyebrow. 

Bogotá pushed him into the water. 

  
It was getting dark, the kids have been lulled to sleep (apart from Paula, who was still roaming around the house) and more people were coming. 

Río had another addition to the team, a huge mastiff named Porto. "It's my therapy dog," he explained, "Marselle suggested it." 

Marselle nodded solemnly. 

"There is no better companion." 

Tokio brought everyone souvenirs from all around the world; even Berlín and Palermo received two bottles of fine wine. 

  
Martín went upstairs to pick up more candles but he dropped them as soon as he walked back out onto the terrace. 

"Helsinki!" he yelled, rushing to hug the other man, who beamed at him. 

Soon, Andrés' arms were around Martín's waist as he lifted him up, trying to pry him off of Helsinki. 

"Get away from the big serbian guy!" he yelled. 

When he finally managed to pull him away, Martín leaned against his body, grinning. 

"I am sorry, Martín," Helsinki began, his eyes shining as he lifted a hand to show them all a ring. "I am a married man now." 

"WHAT?" everyone exploded in cheers. Nairobi gave him a huge, wet kiss on the cheek as Bogotá poured him some wine. 

"Who's the lucky man?" Sergio demanded with a soft smile on his face. 

Helsinki pulled out a polaroid picture of a handsome guy with greyish-blonde curls and eyes full of laughter. 

"Ambroise," he explained. "He teaches me french." 

"Yeah, I bet he does," Martín snickered and Denver reached to smack him. 

"What about you two?" Raquel raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to get married?" 

"So that I could become number six? No, thank you," Martín rolled his eyes. 

Andrés nodded, still not letting go of him. 

"I've had very bad luck when it comes to marriage. This is... completely different," he purred, nuzzling Martín's neck. 

After talking and drinking for long time, most of them went to sleep. Berlín promised them a tour of his _château_ the next day, combined with wine tasting. 

Raquel went upstairs to check on Paula. She tucked her in, kissed her forehead and when she came back to the terrace, she only found Palermo sitting on the stairs. 

She took two bottles of cider from the table, sat down next to him and offered one. 

"Thanks," he smiled at her and then turned his head back towards the sea. 

The scars around his eyes were pale, not too prominent. His hair was fluffier than Raquel's ever seen it and his cheeks had some nice colour to them. 

"Sergio was afraid you two would get bored quickly and throw yourselves into some trouble," she mused, putting the bottle to her lips. 

"Well..." Martín shrugged. "We have books, I can play around in the garage, Andrés has his cooking and wine... And we also have the mafia."

"You work with them?" 

"Sometimes. I make stuff for them. For funsies more than anything. We practise at their shooting range from time to time. You and Sergio? Not bored?"

"We've been into cinema lately. Don't you think there's a lot to discover when all of your time is free?" 

"Don't let Sergio force you to try origami," Berlín spoke up, stepping onto the terrace. "You'll get better than him in no time and he'll be disappointed."

Raquel smirked at that. She watched as Berlín leaned down to wrap a blanket around Palermo's shoulders. 

"Shouldn't you give one to Lisboa as well, you misogynistic pig?" 

"She has a sweater which you've clearly forgotten about, dumbass."

Martín tilted back his head to look at him and Berlín kissed him, slowly, gently. 

"I'm going to sleep. Don't get too drunk," he murmured and Palermo gave him a soft smile before he left.

Raquel shook his head. 

"This is so crazy to me. Seeing him... like that."

"Oh, don't worry, it's not always like that. When we moved into the house, we were fighting so much that we had to go shopping for dinnerware three times, because everything got smashed against the walls, the floor and in one case, the top of Andrés' head," Martín explained and took a gulp of cider. 

"What were you fighting about?" 

"Everything. Him leaving, him coming back, about lies and about Helsinki, and the Bank, and Gandia, and Sergio. One time, he suggested that I should go to therapy. So I told him that any competent therapist would tell me to leave him. Can you imagine he shut up for a full day? And then he held me so tight I thought I was going to suffocate."

Raquel nodded slowly, looking up at the stars. 

"He said you're still having some bad days."

"Yeah, but less and less often. At first, I would wake up every other night, not because of a bad dream, but because I thought I was waking up from this. Or I wasn't sleeping, afraid to let the days end."

"And now?" 

"Now," Martín smiled. "It doesn't feel like a dream anymore. It feels like home. Like we're just melting into each other, like when we first met and figured out that we were like two puzzle pieces, but better. Like you said the last time we had a heart-to-heart... very romantic," he said and yawned. 

Raquel nudged him. 

"Go to sleep."

Palermo nodded, getting to his feet.

Andrés wasn't asleep yet when Martín walked into the bedroom. 

He raised his arms slightly and immediately felt Palermo fall into them, head under Andrés' chin, their legs tangling together. 

Martín was asleep within seconds and Andrés kept a hand on his back, feeling it move with every deep breath. 

How perfect he was. How strong, even after everything he's been through. How smart, always matching Andrés' tempo. How passionate, going from zero to a hundred in a blink of an eye. How fiercely, indescribably loyal.

Martín was indispensable to him. 

The reason why he could never notice his own love was that from the moment Martín walked into his life, he became a part of it, an element just as natural as breathing. 

Andrés closed his eyes, pulling Martín closer, and let himself get lost in the comfort. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti* denial !!
> 
> i had a stream of consciousness while typing this shit
> 
> to everyone who left comments : I LOVE YOU SO MUCH it was so exciting to read them!!
> 
> since I'm an endless pit of emotions, you're welcome to say hi on tumblr https://czpla.tumblr.com/
> 
> kisses


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